


Weather This Storm With Me

by likeabomb



Series: IwaMatsu Week 2021 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Athletic Trainer Iwaizumi Hajime, Child Death, Funeral Director Matsukawa Issei, Grief/Mourning, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabomb/pseuds/likeabomb
Summary: Matsukawa knew going into his profession that there were going to be times when it was difficult. The first time he has a client family who's lost a young child, it hits him harder than he expected. Iwaizumi is there to help him withstand the maelstrom.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Matsukawa Issei
Series: IwaMatsu Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141802
Kudos: 11
Collections: IwaMatsu Week 2021





	Weather This Storm With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be clear with the tags. This fic handles Matsukawa's grief as an involved but outside party to a family's tragic loss. It's difficult for him, but the child is not someone he knew, nor is the family, other than through their professional engagement.
> 
> Written for #IwaMatsuWeek2021 on Twitter.  
> Day 1, using the quote from Richard Siken's Unfinished Duet, "What did you really want? Someone to pass this with me."

There’s a weight that follows Matsukawa in the doorway one evening, and as soon as Iwaizumi sees his face, he knows something is changing. He’s not sure it’s a good thing.

“Issei?” Iwa asks, wiping his hands on the dish towel he’d grabbed before coming to the entryway. It’s not as often as he’d like that he can greet Matsukawa when he comes home from work, with their schedules the way they are, but he flips the towel over his shoulder and reaches with a hand to squeeze his shoulder. “What happened?”

His solemn expression mars his features, but he greets Iwa as normal, if sluggishly. It’s not until they’re settled down to eat that he finally says what’s on his mind. His jacket is folded and set aside, his tie loosened from around his throat.

Matsukawa explains that they had received a client family who’d lost their young daughter. He’d said she was six. It’s a statement that leaves Iwaizumi’s chest feeling hollowed out and cold.

They don’t say much more about it, but after having seen him do this job for the time he has, Iwaizumi knows the process well enough to know that if they received the client family, the wake will be tomorrow, and the funeral and cremation the day after.

He understands why Mattsun looks as wrung out as he does. Iwaizumi doesn’t ask him to help with the dishes, and he makes sure he doesn’t fall asleep with the television on. He’s sure he’s not even watching it, but he ushers him off to bed regardless, and when they’d curled up in bed with an extra blanket over them, Iwa had laid behind him, face buried into his shoulders and legs tangled. Matsukawa shook a little, but hadn’t cried.

Sometime, in the dark, Iwaizumi had heard him mutter quietly, “I knew it was gonna be tough, but…”

His sleep is fitful.

\-----

Morning comes, though, because it has to and Iwaizumi can feel, even from laying beside him, that it’s cold. It leaves the house cold, and too quiet, and the speckling of droplets on the window tells him it’s more than likely a heavy fog outside.

With a gentle shift of blankets, Iwa reaches out to cup Matsukawa’s jaw, hold his face, and run his thumb along his cheek, rousing him ever so slowly and ever so gently.

It’s been a few years since he’s _been_ Matsukawa formally, but some things stick more than others, and when they get the chance to meet up with people they grew up with, and friends of friends, everyone still habitually calls him Mattsun. Which, more than anything, is cute, Iwa thinks.

“Hey,” he calls, voice croaking under the weight of sleep, “Issei?”

Eyes open, lids heavy, and he turns his face into Iwa’s hand, “Hey,” he hums back. He’s not even awake yet, Iwaizumi can tell, but he still pushes his cheek into his warm hand and rolls over to face him.

They don’t say anything else, and Iwaizumi doesn’t push him more to get up and around for his day. Matsukawa is always diligent with his work, and today is going to be tough. Now and again they make eye contact, but there’s nothing that can be said right now, and neither of them tries. What happens today is going to happen regardless of what they say this morning, so they just enjoy each other’s company.

When Matsukawa finally draws a deep breath and gets up from bed and heads for the shower, Iwaizumi’s fingers sweep over the warmth he left in the bed. He follows suit and starts making breakfast, and finishing Matsukawa’s lunch. He probably won’t eat today, but Iwa is going to make sure he sends him off with something, just in case.

When the shower cuts off, Iwa sets aside Mattsun’s breakfast, settled on top of the bento box for his lunch. He passes by him when he heads into the bedroom to get dressed, and Iwaizumi steps into the bathroom to get ready for his day too.

The weight of the world doesn’t normally settle down on their little home often, like the fog has rolled in the front door, but there are times when Matsukawa’s job gets to him. He loves his job, and he loves being able to help people, and assist in their journey in finding some kind of peace and solace and closure. But there are times, like now, that the responsibility of the service he offers is like chains around his heart, dropped into a stormy ocean. It twists him up for days, but Iwaizumi understands, and he does what he can to keep things running when it’s difficult to trudge through.

His own job can be difficult sometimes, when a player is injured despite Iwa’s best efforts to keep it from happening, but especially when a grievous injury ends a career. It doesn’t happen often, of course, but now and again, it hits him like a truck. He’s had a few players realize the severity of an injury in the midst of the pain, and the anguish and disbelief is always heavier than the cries of physical pain.

They keep each other going, through everything that can and often is thrown at them.

Mattsun’s hand brushes his waist when he steps behind him into the bathroom. His hands settle on Iwa’s hips and he leans to rest his chin on the top of his hair. There’s no product in it, so it’s still soft, and standing in just his sleep pants and shorts is a stark contrast to Matsukawa’s pressed suit he wears for work.

Iwaizumi rinses his toothbrush and mouth before turning around to press a kiss to his husband’s lips, reaching to wipe a little fleck of toothpaste he’d missed when he’d brushed his teeth after his shower.

“I gotta go now, Hajime,” he says quietly, and there’s something in his eyes that says he wishes he had some excuse, some way out, something- but he has a duty, and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t go through with this, as hard as it is.

Matsukawa knows this is even harder for the family, and he’s one of the only reliefs they could have in the process. His professionalism, and his care. He chose this to bring people just that, so even while his eyes hold some kind of trepidation, the square of his shoulders is confident and sure.

Iwaizumi huffs gently as he smooths out his jacket, “I’ll be home before you. Just shopping on my agenda for the day. So don’t worry too much, alright?”

Nodding slowly, he wraps his arms around Iwa, crushing him to his chest and pressing a kiss to his hair before heaving a sigh.

“Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you tonight, Hajime.”

Their fingers stay linked for a moment, even as he steps away, when he answers, “See you tonight, Issei.”

Iwa heads to the bedroom, and he hears the rustle of the little bento being put in his bag, and the plate being rinsed in the sink. He hears the sound of his shoes at the door, and then the door itself. 

Leaning against the wall, after he hears the lock click, Iwaizumi lets himself be tugged down, finally, by the weight of having just sent him out. It settles heavier on Matsukawa’s shoulders, he knows, but he knows that he needs to be a pillar of strength for him, this morning, and tonight when he arrives back, and tomorrow after the funeral. He’s off work right now, the off season for the team he works with primarily, and while he’s always on call for emergencies, the only thing he has to do today is make sure the fridge is stocked and dinner is ready.

He has a twisting feeling in his gut that Mattsun really isn’t going to want dinner by the time he gets home, but, just like the lunch he sent him with, he’s going to make sure it happens regardless. Just in case.

\-----

“Is he going to be alright?”

“I think eventually- there’s only so many times this job can pull the rug out from under him, right? It’s always a hard pill for him to swallow. But he always pulls through. So,” Iwaizumi explains, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, “I think with a little time. I don’t think it’s something he’s going to ever be used to, though. Not-”

“Not like this. Nobody gets used to this.” Hanamaki hums.

“Yeah,” Iwa agrees, keeping his footing while the train jostles to a stop.

“Thanks for telling me, though. I don’t know if he would have. He always tries to carry the weight of his job by himself.”

“You know why he does it, though.” Iwaizumi steps off the train onto the platform and switches what ear the phone is pressed to.

“I know, but you and I both know we don’t think that kind of thing- his job’s- he does a good job. He’s helping people,” Makki pouts, Iwa can hear it in his tone.

“Are you guys gonna need anything?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that, really. On one hand, Hanamaki is, and probably always will be, the best friend Matsukawa has. They were close in high school, and that hasn’t changed. But considering he doesn’t really know what help Hanamaki could offer, and he doesn’t know what kind of shape Matsukawa is going to be in, he doesn’t know what could or couldn’t help.

“I don’t know,” he admits, but follows it up with the best he can muster, “Maybe send some flowers over to the house. I’ll put ‘em in a vase. Something bright, something yellow.”

“You got it, man. I can do that.”

The line goes quiet, but he can still hear Makki breathing on the other side. The weight of this is pulling him under, too, it seems. It’s incredible how much a tragedy like this can spread, touching so many different people’s lives. It was always something Iwaizumi understood may be a problem, in concept, but it wasn’t until the first time Mattsun came home a wreck did it really sink in why most people don’t last five years in the industry. 

Before he saw the strength of his husband’s soul.

Before he had decided to be the rock Matsukawa clung to in the maelstrom.

Iwaizumi reflects, as he walks the street, on how that had been one of the deciding points in asking Matsukawa to marry him, too.

The first time he’d buckled under it all had been so difficult, and for a while, Iwaizumi thought he might quit. Matstukawa had always been a rather soft heart, even if he had a lot of snark and a sleepy look to his face. Iwaizumi cried more often, sure, but Matsukawa was the one that Makki, and Oikawa, and even he himself leaned on when times were tough. When the heat of the anger and bite of bitterness died down to an acidic simmering regret.

“Just the flowers, I think, Makki. Thanks for looking out, though. I’ll let you know when he’s finished the last of the ceremonies. Maybe you can invite him out to lunch.”

“Sneaky, sneaky, Iwa,” Makki hums, but there’s not as much mirth as there could be.

\-----

When Iwaizumi hears the lock for the door, he looks up from where he’s settled on the couch, reading a couple articles with updates on Club Atlético San Juan, the Sendai Frogs that Kyoutani joined, and Kindaichi with the Tamaden Elephants. He likes being able to keep up with what’s happening with some of the people he was closest to in high school, because a lot of them never really lost touch, and he’s glad for that.

He sets his tablet aside and stands up, coming around the wall to see Matsuwakwa opening the door. His head down, Iwa can’t see his face, but the set of his shoulders, and the ever present gloom that never cleared up just follows him inside.

He doesn’t even make it past the genkan before he starts to shut down.

Iwaizumi is there, standing in his slippers, catching him when he crumples. His shoulders shake dangerously, but it’s when Iwa’s voice gently reassures him, “I’m here,” that he starts to cry.

Settling the two of them to sit on the floor, Matsukawa clutches to his shirt and heaves great sobs, his whole chest wracked with them. There’s a wet spot from his tears already, but when Mattsun had told him about the whole thing, he’d steeled himself for this.

“Sh-she-” he chokes on another sob, unable to finish.  
  
Iwa runs fingers through his hair, rubbing his back. He moves his bag away and rubs his knee.

“She was so small, Hajime- she-”

“I know, Issei, shh,” he tends to his husband carefully.

“She had such long hair, and her kimono was so bri-bright-”

Matsukawa talks about all he can, spilling his grief unceremoniously, like a cup overflowing. Iwaizumi lets him get out as much as he needs to be able to breathe through the vice clamped tight on his heart.

He talks about how small she was, in general, but her little hands, and her serene face, and how her parents had cried.

“I-I cried too, Hajime- I’m not supposed to cry. That- it’s not about me.” Matsukawa grinds his teeth in frustration.

“She might not have been your daughter, or your sister, but that doesn’t mean the tragedy of someone so young dying so suddenly doesn’t still leave an impact on you, Issei,” Iwaizumi consoles him. “You’re great at your job, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. You’re not heartless, baby.”

The soft muttered words just have him breaking down into tears again, face pressed into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

He’s not sure how long the two of them sit on the cold floor and cry, and Iwaizumi admittedly ends up shedding a few tears of his own, but by the time Mattsun is ready, Iwa has composed himself.

Looking up at him, his nose rubbed raw from his handkerchief, eyes bloodshot and puffy, Matsukawa’s lip still quivers a little.

Brushing dark hair back from his forehead, Iwaizumi takes his husband’s face in both of his hands, and does what he can to help him shake free the last of the chains on his heart. At least for the night.

“You, Issei Iwaizumi, are a wonderful and brilliant soul. Kind and selfless, and the impact you leave with the people who pass through your life, friends or clients, is indescribable.”

Thumbs sweep under Mattsun’s cheeks and collect fresh trickles of tears and Iwa gives his nose a little kiss, and then each cheek, and then each eyelid, and then finally, his lips. They’re a little _too_ soft from the way Matsukawa’s been biting them, but Iwaizumi is gentle about it.

“You are the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met, and I know… I know this is hard, but you were strong in the face of something so horrible. I know it wasn’t fair, but you made their pain as easy to manage as you could, and you’re an absolute angel for that.”

“An angel, really Hajime?” Matsukawa gives a wet laugh.

“Yeah, an angel!” Iwaizumi smiles for him. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m just… doing my job,” he mutters gently, turning his face into Iwa’s hand.

“You are. But it’s a job you realized young that you wanted to do, because you wanted to help people. You wanted to make the trials and tribulations of losing a loved one easier for people to handle. And you _do._ Every single day.”

Leaning in, Mattsun presses their foreheads together and sighs a shaky sound, and Iwaizumi’s thumbs run over his cheeks again before smoothing down his neck to his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles under his jacket.

“Did you manage to eat lunch?”

“I didn’t,” he admits, shame making his lips a thin line.

“Alright, we’ll get some dinner in you. You need to keep your strength up.”

Nodding slowly, Matsukawa leans against the wall to push himself up, and finally, start to take his shoes off and set them to the side. Iwaizumi had considered helping him with them, but the position they’d settled into had been too awkward for that. He’d been too focused on making sure he could bear the weight of Mattsun’s sorrows more than anything else.

“What did you make?” He asks as he pulls his slippers on and heads for the bedroom.

“Just curry. Something easy. I knew you weren’t gonna want something complicated.”

“You know me too well, Hajime,” Mattsun stops to reach for his hip and reel him in to give him a kiss to the temple. There’s still a thickness to his voice from tears unshed, but he’ll be alright for the night.

While he fixes them both a portion of dinner, Iwaizumi hopes that getting as much of the grief out tonight as he did, that Matsukawa will be better equipped to handle the day tomorrow. He’s good at his job, and he will endure.

When he hears him shuffle back into the room, he huffs a soft little sound, between a laugh and a scoff, “Really?”

Entirely innocently, Iwaizumi looks over his shoulder, “Hm?” as if he doesn’t know exactly what Matsukawa has spotted.

There’s a vase of bright sunflowers and paler pink gerberas sitting in the window that wasn’t there this morning. Hanamaki had come through with ordering a nice bouquet, and having it delivered before Matsukawa had gotten home. Iwaizumi even clipped them all down to fit in the vase well.

“Oh,” Iwa hums, “I wonder how those got there.”

Mattsun sweeps into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist before pressing a few kisses to his shoulder. Muttering against his shirt, “Makki?”

“I told him you had a difficult client this week, so he sent over a pick me up.”

Iwa’s not nearly as sneaky as people think he is. And besides, there was no point when Matsukawa knew his friend well enough to know he’d sent them.

“That was sweet of him,” he smiles softly, getting drinks for them from the fridge to take to the kotatsu.

They talk about the teams, Iwaizumi’s upcoming return to work, and the snow coming in the next week or so.

After dinner, they curl up to watch a couple matches and Matsukawa dozes off tucked into Iwaizumi’s side. He plays with his fingers in the quiet of the house, letting himself have time to appreciate the warm weight against him, before rousing him gently to get them both into bed.

\-----

Morning comes again, as it always does, but it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. The house doesn’t feel as hollowed out as it did the morning before, and Iwaizumi is sure that even if today would be hard, that the hardest hit to Matsukawa’s fragile heart was behind him. 

Knowing and bracing himself had been one thing, but seeing her had been an entirely otherworldly thing. There had been the understanding of the situation from an analytical and technical point, but just as he’d cried in Iwaizumi’s arms the night before about her serene face and tiny hands, the reality of the situation was sobering in a way little else could be.

But he’d come home, just like he always did, and always would, and Iwaizumi had told him he was a good man, like he always did, and always would.

Mattsun would be alright, now, Iwa is sure. Today might be difficult like yesterday was, but he would be professional and dignified, but more than that, he would be supportive and sympathetic for this family’s loss.

He trails fingers up and down the subtle ridges of Matsukawa’s spine, along the curves of his shoulder blades, and finally along ribs until he loops a hand over him to support his own weight when he pushes himself half up to press a few kisses to his husband’s bare shoulder.

“Issei?”

A soft hum answers, before a soft, “Hajime,” comes whispered from sleep laden lips.

Their morning is much the same, curled up in the warm blankets until it’s time to really get up, and Iwa throws together breakfast while Mattsun is in the shower.

Rather than brush his teeth right after Matsukawa’s shower, though, he trails behind him into the bedroom and helps him get into his suit for the day. He ties his tie, even as he gets a small smirk for it, and when he’s settled it, he smooths the shoulders for his jacket.

“You’ll call me if you need anything,” Iwaizumi informs him. It’s not a question.

“Of course,” Matsukawa answers, leaning in the few inches to press a kiss to his mouth. Iwa’s hands in the lapels of his jacket are a comforting tug that keeps him grounded.

“You gotta go now, Issei,” he urges gently, but peppers the corner of his mouth and cheek with a few more kisses anyway.

“Yes, sir,” he hears in return, the cheeky tone almost masks the sadness starting to creep into his eyes.

Reaching up, he holds his face firmly, running thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. When Iwa pulls him in again, it’s to knock their foreheads together gently.

They don’t say anything else, but he hears dishes clink and clatter before the door and its lock.

Running hands over his face, Iwaizumi heaves a few deep breaths, trying to loosen the knots binding his ribs and his heart and his throat. Lashed so tightly to keep it all in, he only has this one last day- a long day- but just the one day, and he can loosen those binds that keep the pillars that support Matsukawa steadfast. When they aren’t at such risk to crumble at such a crucial moment, he wouldn’t worry too much about just how tight the ropes tug, but right now, he can’t let himself give any slack.

There will be a time, he knows, when Matsukawa does this very same thing for him, but right now, it’s his to do, and he is more than happy to.

\-----

In the middle of a few important calls, his phone chirps with Oikawa’s specific ringtone, and he scoops it up to press it between his ear and shoulder, “It’s midnight, Oikawa.”

“What a way to greet your best friend in the entire world,” Oikawa starts up, and Iwa can’t deny it brings a smile to his face, “I called at a convenient time for _you_. You’re welcome.”

A fond shake of his head is enough to dislodge his phone to hold it instead, setting aside his paperwork for now.

“Did you catch my match?” Oikawa asks, because he always asks. 

Generally the answer is a resounding, ‘of course, dumbass’, but it’s not this time.

“I was waiting til Matsukawa was home so we could watch it. I think he’ll need it. If you won, that is.”

A gasp ripples across the line, across the world, “Iwa-chan! Don’t be mean to me! Of course we won!”

“Is that so?” Iwaizumi teases. He misses Oikawa. They’re childhood friends, so it’s hard to be apart after they were together for so many years of their lives, but he knows Oikawa is out making the most of his life and living it to the fullest, in all the ways that make him happy. That’s enough to placate Iwaizumi’s childish yearning for his friend’s laugh in person.

They talk for a few minutes, catch up with happenings in Argentina and Oikawa’s team, and the nonsense therein. Iwaizumi updates him that Hanamaki found a job again.

“You said Macchan would need a good game?”

Humming against the receiver, Iwa draws a long breath, “He’s got a tough client family.”

“As in, they’re giving him trouble?” Oikawa presses, and there’s a shift on the other end. Iwaizumi can imagine he’s sitting up in his bed, tone a little more serious than their casual conversations.

“As in a young death. He’s weathering through it, it’s just tough on him.”

“Oh.” Oikawa breathes, whisper quiet.

“So it’s good you won! He’ll have something good to lean on, even while you’re traipsing all over the world,” Iwa tries to keep it lighthearted.

He remembers a time when Oikawa had brought concerns to him personally, privately, about Matsukawa’s choice of jobs, even before he and Iwaizumi were dating. At the time it had been the strength of their friendship that had spurred him into asking. Iwa remembers telling him that Mattsun was going to make the choices in his life, and that he thought it was pretty cool he wanted to do something to help people like that.

In truth, Matsukawa’s decision to help people was one of the core reasons Iwaizumi had been able to decide what he’d wanted to do with his life, too. Oikawa and Hanamaki and Matsukawa colored his life’s choices, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t absolutely thrilled to be where he was now.

“Is he going to be alright, Hacchan?”

He sounds painfully small, and Iwa steels himself a little, using a splash of his Work Reassuring Voice, smiling through, “He’ll be alright, Tooru, he’s strong. He got most of the tears out last night after the wake. Today was the funeral and cremation, and yeah, that part’s tough too, but seeing her face and leaving her family to watch over her, I think, as what got to him. It didn’t break him, though- he went right back to work this morning. If nothing else, he’s seeing this one through. After this, we’ll see, but I think this is really only going to strengthen his resolve and his love for his job.”

There’s a long pause, as if Oikawa is expecting him to say more, but he doesn’t.

Finally, there’s a somewhat dramatic sigh, even if it’s got the tinges of sadness at the edges that Iwa knows all too well, “You two are just the worst, you know that?”

“What the hell are you saying now, jackass?”

“Strengthen his resolve- when did you get so damn poetic?” Oikawa fake gags, but Iwaizumi can hear the smile in his voice too.

“It’s the marriage. The rings actually activate secret sap reserves,” Iwaizumi deadpans.

There’s a stretch of nothing, and then Oikawa mutters quietly, “You almost make that sound convincing.”

He busts up laughing, “God, you’re an idiot.”

Oikawa squawks, “Always with the insults! Who taught you such vulgarity?”

The rest of their conversation is much the same, until the long pauses turn to one that isn’t punctuated by Oikawa’s sleepy voice. Iwaizumi listens hard to the sound of his soft and slow breathing before he decides, yep, he’s asleep on the other end- gives it an extra second- and hangs up his side. He texts him to sleep well, and finally gets back to his own day.

\-----

Iwaizumi is pouring himself a cup of tea when he hears the front door, and without missing a beat, he raises his voice to call through their house, “Tea, Issei?”

There’s a pause, the door shuts, and Matsukawa calls his return, “Please.”

He pulls down a second mug and fixes a cup of tea how he knows Mattsun takes it, and brings it around to the entryway to hand over after he’s taken off his shoes. He holds it with both hands, soaking the heath through long thin fingers.

Taking a hesitant sip, still a little too hot, he hands it back, and Iwa starts up the hall again, setting them both down to help him with his tie as he undoes the buttons on his sleeves.

Iwaizumi doesn’t ask how the day went. He doesn’t ask how Matsukawa is. He lets him break down the barriers, his suit, the set of his shoulders, and when he finally heaves that breath that says he’s home, there’s a warm smile offered when he opens his eyes.

Matsukawa’s bone deep tired expression and the ring of dark under his eyes that have collected the past few days lightens as the warmth of Iwaizumi’s love works it’s magic.

Those warmed fingers come to hold Iwa’s face, and he draws him up those couple inches into a kiss that leaves them both breathless. They stand together, in the middle of their home, breathing each other’s air, in casual day clothes, and the remnants of a rigid suit. He rests his forehead against his husband’s, and his skin is still a little cold from the chill outside, but he will warm up given a little time.

“You did well, Issei,” Iwaizumi’s thumb runs over the band on his finger, “Today, yesterday, and every day before that.”

There’s a thickness to his throat when he chokes out a laugh, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be writing books? You get so poetic sometimes.”

Iwa smiles for him, and doesn’t tease, because he understands he doesn’t need to be teased right now. Later, surely, but not yet. Instead, he continues.

“I’m proud of you.” He’d said as much yesterday, too, but it’s still true.

Rather than brushing it off, though, this time Matsukawa’s expression softens, and he looks Iwaizumi in the eye before nodding a little.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t dispute it, and he doesn’t pretend like it’s not a big deal. Because he understands it _is_ a big deal. 

Some part of the day, either the morning spent in bed, or his departure, or the actual events of the funeral and cremation, or the time in transit on the way home, or even this moment here- there’s no real way for Iwaizumi to know what did it, but something did, and Matsukawa knows that what he went through in the last couple of days is important, and he was crucial to the way things were handled.

If he hadn’t been there, the family might not have been taken care of with the kind and guiding hand he offered.

That understanding crosses his face in waves, and then the pride in his work and his care, and he pulls Iwaizumi in for a few more kisses. 

Voice soft and sad, but so relieved, he mutters against his lips between kisses, “Thank you, thank you, Hajime, thank you.”

Iwaizumi laughs, and Matsukawa laughs, and he cries a little too, but all is well.

There will be other times like this. Times when their world seems too grey, too cold, that the storm never seems like it will pass. 

Matsukawa will have times when his job is difficult. When the pressures of being the one to guide people’s grief as best he can is too much for him to bear. And there will be times when Iwaizumi’s work with his patients ends in heartbreak. He will blame himself.

But they will stand firm against those storms, for each other, and they will weather through them together.

“Your tea’s gonna get cold.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Drink cold tea, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted to my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/likeabomb_).
> 
> If there's anything that needs to be further tagged, please don't hesitate to let me know!


End file.
